


Each Slow Dusk

by auclairdusoleil



Category: The Greatcoats Series - Sebastien de Castell
Genre: Angst, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Falcio has Issues, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I kinda assumed wife-Aline took Falcio's name when they got married for tagging purposes, Nightmares, Spoilers for Tyrant's Throne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24699595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auclairdusoleil/pseuds/auclairdusoleil
Summary: Falcio stood, powerless to move, to speak, to look away, as the last vestiges of life drained from the woman he called his answer to the world.
Relationships: Falcio val Mond & Kest Murrowson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 9
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Each Slow Dusk

**Author's Note:**

> The setting in time & place aren't very explicit in the text because I'm the worst, but in my head it's in Aramor a couple of nights after the last scene in Tyrant's Throne, before everyone disperses to go live their new lives. Don't ask why Falcio and Ethalia aren't sharing a room - she's probably off doing something saintly.

A steady stream of blood poured from Valiana’s throat and pooled at her feet - for, seemingly held upright against the wall by some unseen force, she had not crumpled when the silver knife had been drawn across her neck - drawing ruby-rich ribbons down the fabric of her dress. Her eyes were screwed shut, but her mouth was open in a silent, unending scream, her back arched as she tried to fight against whatever it was that held her in place.

Falcio stood, powerless to move, to speak, to look away, as the last vestiges of life drained from the woman he called his answer to the world.

The power which had restrained Valiana showed no mercy even in death. It froze her face as an exquisite mask of agony, maintained the desperately defiant curvature of her spine, halted everything except blood which drained from her body. The tips of her long, dark hair glistened with congealed gore. Falcio begged his body to allow him to go to her and release her from the restrictions, to bestow some kind of peace upon her broken form. Instead, by some compulsion, his head was turned to the right.

Beside him stood two women, or perhaps a woman and a girl on the cusp of womanhood. Their faces were familiar, although Falcio couldn’t quite place them, and they wore twin expressions of disgust.

“You failed her,” the girl said.

“She trusted you to save her,” the woman added with a sneer.

Falcio opened his mouth to say something, to acknowledge his failure, to express his pain. The woman’s eyes flashed a bright but unnameable colour - Falcio realised with a start that they had previously been utterly devoid of hue - and his jaw snapped shut against his own will.

“Silence!” she snarled.

“It’s our turn to speak now,” said the girl, “and you _will_ listen.”

The woman raised her voice again.

“Falcio val Mond, son of the Duchy of Pertine, First Cantor of King Paelis’ Greatcoats, is it an immutable fact of your life that any woman close to you is destined to suffer?”

Falcio thought of his wife, and the girl named after her, and Valiana’s blood-soaked dress. He found he couldn’t swallow.

“Rape,” the girl intoned, “kidnap, flames, poison, and now a slit throat.”

“You swore you would protect us, Falcio. And yet, you neglected to make good on that promise, once, twice, three times. Now you stand before us and you do not see us.”

He blinked, his eyelids unimaginably heavy, and looked again. Slowly, as a hunter stalks its prey, recognition crept up on him. The girl’s face was sharp, almost elfin, with a long nose over a wide mouth; the woman’s was, as it always was, a little indistinct, but the soft lines of her jaw spoke of a youthful joy which Falcio had never recaptured.

“ _Aline_ ,” he whispered, for the name fit them both.

They both smiled without mirth. Their crimson lips were the only part of them with any kind of colour, the rest of their bodies being shades of muted, lifeless grey.

A new voice pierced the silence. It was at once ragged and slickly wet, with a high, whistling note underscored by a deep and guttural sound.

“You know them, the ones who share a name. But what of me, the one who took _your_ name?”

Unwillingly, Falcio turned to face the place where Valiana’s body was still suspended. When she spoke again, he was unable to look away from the carnage of her throat which vibrated with every word.

“A cursed name indeed, I think. A name full of broken promises.”

Then, very slowly, Valiana began to move her head. The blood which had begun to crust around her wound cracked and flaked, and Falcio felt bitter bile rise in his throat. She fixed him with a stare, her eyes the same shade of crimson as stained her dress, and he once again found himself powerless to move, to look away, to apologise, to cry, to _breathe._

***

Falcio awoke gasping for breath and drenched in sweat. He retched, once, and then pushed himself up on shaking arms. Kest was crouched beside his bed, his expression one of gentle concern, and Falcio thought he might throw up if he had to meet his eyes. He closed his own to avoid the problem, and was immediately greeted by the image of Valiana’s contorted body.

“You were dreaming,” Kest murmured, and Falcio found the statement just ridiculous enough that he could bear to look at his friend.

“Thanks for pointing that out.”

Kest stood and crossed the room to fill a cup with water from the pitcher, which Falcio gratefully accepted. He waited until Falcio had downed half of it before he spoke again.

“Just be glad it was me and not Brasti you woke up to.”

_I suppose I should thank the Gods for these small mercies,_ Falcio thought.

“How… how did you…?”

“We share a wall, Falcio. I heard you shouting.”

“Shouting?” Odd, considering he’d hardly been able to speak.

“Names.” Kest hesitated. “Aline’s, and Valiana’s.”

Falcio finished the cup of water, focusing on the coolness of the water on his tongue and the sensation of swallowing. His hands shook. Kest took the cup from him and placed it on the bedside table, and then sat halfway down Falcio’s bed.

“I let them down,” Falcio said in a low voice, “No, it’s worse than that. I betrayed them.”

“You betrayed Valiana, whom you gave a name and a purpose when she had nothing else?”

“I gave her a name which means nothing but bloodshed and abandonment. Her purpose was to protect Aline, who died anyway because _I_ failed her.”

“Perhaps, Falcio, it isn’t always about you.” Kest’s voice was soft, but held an edge which suggested he would not be challenged.

“Perhaps your wife died as a victim of an unjust state. Perhaps the girl who could have been Queen died because an idiot King came up with a ridiculous plan which he entrusted to the only man stupid enough to try and carry it out. Perhaps the val Mond name means more than whatever you think it does, because it is borne by the Duchess of Rijou, who is as brave and true as anyone could be.”

Falcio knew it was stupid to argue, but that had never stopped him before.

“But what if it brings misfortune to Ethalia, or to…” _the baby_ , he’d meant to say, but the words stuck in his throat. He knew Kest understood anyway, because Kest always did.

“It’s the times we live in which bring misfortune, not the names we bear.”

Falcio sighed, and ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair. The room which had seemed stiflingly warm a few minutes ago was now cool, and he drew the coarse woollen blanket closer around himself with a yawn. Kest stood.

“Sleep,” he said.

“Is that an order?”

“Maybe it is. There’s no reason it shouldn’t be, considering you’re no longer First Cantor and I’m no longer a Greatcoat,” Kest answered, with a faint hint of a smile which Falcio knew to be no different to Brasti’s brightest grin. He bent and kissed Falcio gently on the forehead.

“Sleep _well_.”

“You too.”

Falcio closed his eyes and held on tightly to Kest’s words. For a few hours, he slept without dreams.


End file.
